


Through the Bad Days (And the Good)

by Chibifukurou



Category: Leverage
Genre: Autism, Genderqueer Character, Gendervague, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4774706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibifukurou/pseuds/Chibifukurou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not quiet wedding vows. It's knowing that no matter if they are having a good day or a bad day, they will support each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Bad Days (And the Good)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookhobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookhobbit/gifts).



Today is one of his bad days. He looses three hours to cataloging his garden. He knows he is supposed to be working the brew pub's kitchen, but the idea of the heat, noise, having to talk to others and direct what they were doing.

He's just not ready for that. Not when his skin feels too tight and all the wrong shape. He's wearing the thick gardening gloves. If he wasn't he'd keep catching himself, expecting his fingers to be slimmer, his palms smaller. 

He's floating in and out of the direct connection to his body. He should be better, but it isn't that simple. Not when he's so stressed. He could meditate, try to muscle himself back into a tighter connection with this body and where he is currently.

There is no job though, and he knows from experience that if he tries to force it the blowout when he looses his control will be much worse. Of course, if he was on the job he'd be able to hit things, fight. Feel the tight curl of his muscles and the slow ache of healing bruises.

The kinds of things that help him feel more in control. Instead, he stays in his garden and focuses on arranging the herb boxes to fit the way that he thinks they should look today. The mint is looking a little droopy, and the rosemary is starting to dry out. He could have moved those two boxes and been done, but stopping the task feels impossible.

It's mid-afternoon before he goes back to the brew pub, he still isn't ready to be the calm in charge Chef, so he heads for the back room and his personal kitchen. Hardison is there entrenched in the video game that he likes so much. Cuddled up in the soft hoodie and sweatpants that he likes to wear on his days off. He's chewing contemplativly on a gummy frog. The ones that never make him itch or twitch.

Seeing Hardison so settled is enough to help calm some of the nervous energy that is clawing at him. He gets to his knife block. Already planning how to arrange the kitchen to be better, more efficient. Like he hadn't planned every detail of the space out himself to be the most efficient possible. 

There, sitting on his knife block is a headband. A Pink Camo tube of cloth. The kind that seemed to have become so popular in Portland over the last few months. Parker must have seen him staring at the purple floral patterned one that one of the brew pub patrons had worn on one of his last bad days.

How she knew he was having another one was a mystery, but it was a very Parker thing to know. It made the mystery not sting as much, knowing that it was Parker and not Nate who'd figured it out.

Eliot had loved Nate, but Nate wasn't like them. He didn't think or feel like they did. No Nate was NT. Not afraid to use every subtle clue of body language and behavior to get to the people in his life.

That had been something Eliot had accepted as necessary. Both to help their clients and because he knew that controlling others was Nate's coping mechanism. Acceptance had neer bridged the gap into comfort though. Not like it was with Parker and Hardison. People who actually understood his non-verbal days. And that something he just couldn't keep track of the outline of his body.

Maybe he'd make those black noodles Parker liked as a thank you. The task, let him escape the hamster wheel of reorganizing everything in the kitchen. The slick feel of the headband running through his fingers as he used it to pull back his hair did the rest.

A talisman to keep him in his body. And his special interest to keep his mind too occupied to pay attention to what he was physically experiencing. Was there anything better on a day like today?

#

Parker smiles her biggest smile when she sees the huge bowl full of black noodles. He has to wrap her knuckles with the back of ihs wooden spoon to keep her from grabbing the bowl right off the table and making a break for it to go hide where she'd be able to eat them however she liked. "Calm down Parker. It's just us tonight. You can eat them with your hands."

At the longing look she sent the bowl, he continued. "After we pry Hardison away from his game." 

They do it together, Parker eases Hardison's attention away from the screen with a well placed cuddle attack. While Eliot waves a plate full of Hardson's favorite garlic bread knots nearby to convince him to finish coming back to the real world. "Come on, dinner is served. If you don't come eat, Parker is going to eat all of it."

Hardison grumbles and sticks one last gummy frog in his mouth, but he follows Parker to the table. As expected Parker happily digs into the noodles, but Hardison just pokes at his. Not seeming to be able to put any of it in his mouth. 

"Bad food day?" Eliot asks. 

Hardison eats a mouthful of the noodles and tries to act like he's enjoying it. Which would work better if Eliot and Parker didn't know him so well by this point. Eliot grabs a couple of oranges from the bowl they keep on the counter at all times and tosses them to Hardison.

Parker uses the time when Hardison fumbles to catch the oranges, as a chance to make off with his plate full of noodles. By the time Hardison looks back down, she's shoveled all his noodles onto her plate. 

"That was my food!" He sighs, but Eliot can see the smallest hint of a smile in the corner of his eyes. 

Parker sticks her tongue out at him and keeps eating. She and Eliot has gotten used to the days when Hardison can't stand to eat certain textures, but can't make him give up food because of the days when he was a kid and couldn't get enough to eat.

Eliot will make a big bowl of Hardison's favorite cheesy mash potatoes later. At least that way he knows Hardison won't go to bed hungry tonight. "So do you want to watch something tonight?" Hardison asks.  
He's not sure if he can deal with the noise tonight. "Maybe I'll head back to my place. Let you watch a movie."

"Want to Play a game of chess? Hardison can play computer games and we don't have to talk." 

As counter offers go, it is tempting. Spending time with Parker and Hardison sounds good, but the idea of having to plan everything out in the detail it would take to be a match for Parker. That is more that he can handle right now. He hums a non-committal reply. Maybe it will be worth it, if he doesn't have to go home alone.

"Or we can have a beauty night." Hardison offers.

Eliot feels something inside of him relax at the idea. It was apparently exactly what he needed even though he hadn't been able to articulate it. Even to himself. He clasped a hand around the back of Hardison's neck in thanks. Pleased when Hardison leaned into the touch.

They end up, cuddled together on the couch, Hardison paints Eliot's nails while Parker waits for her turn and uses the fact that Eliot's hands are occupied as permission to start braiding his hair. Hardison had turned on some soft country music before they'd sat down. The sound and the feel of Parker's fingers running through his hair, while Hardison carefully paints his nails eases the tight ball of discomfort that has been sitting in his chest since he first woke up.

He can finally breath. Secure in the knowledge that the three of them will be together through the bad days and the good. Whatever happens, they change together.

Fin


End file.
